Telum fortuna
by Dom186
Summary: With Apollo stuck leading on Caprica, forming and leading the Resistance, forced by necessity into the same role of ruthless leader his father was; and Starbuck stuck on Galactica, trying to keep it all from falling apart, it seems the Gods have abandoned the Human Race. But all it takes is for just the two right particles to come into contact to create an uncontainable reaction...


Hello readers.

New story from one of the best shows of all time: Battlestar Galactica.

Disclaimer: Not mine.

Enjoy

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They were frakked.

There was no other word for it.

Following the two heavy raiders, who had obviously reported their position, a Cylon Basestar jumped straight into direct orbit above them. He knew what would follow; the massive Cylon ship would launch a single missile per ship, the Cylons being efficient that way, and blow their makeshift fleet of over sixty star-ships straight out of the sky inside of five minutes. And he had no way to stop them.

He looked up from the DRADIS monitor to Laura Roslin who was frozen in abject shock and terror at the appearance of the Basestar. There would be no help from her side, then again, she was a civilian, what could he expect.

It hurt him to admit it, but he'd been a fool to listen to the newly-minted President and continue rescue operations when their position was so precarious. He'd acted emotionally and jumped at the chance to put down his father with the supposed "higher authority" of the President and in doing so he had ignored the tactical situation. What his father had predicted had happened exactly and now thousands of people were about to die.

His extensive officer's training kicked in and he mentally reviewed his options. He could still save _this_ _ship_ and _himself_ he realized immediately. They had a fully functional FTL drive and the Cylon Basestar had jumped far enough away that he would have the time to plot and execute a jump before the missiles reached them. They had gotten lucky, the toasters must've been expecting a battlestar before they jumped, which is why they jumped at a tactically safe distance, to avoid our first salvo of barrage fire (unknowing not even _one_ of the ships was actually armed). This gave them a few precious minutes to act before the missiles they were about to launch could reach them.

Of course, that would also mean leaving the potential thousands of fleeing refugees they had been trying to save, to die, stuck in their non-FTL capable ships or without the proper coordinates. Just like his father had asked him to do. He started to mentally plot a jump to Ragnar Anchorage for half a second before he stopped…He couldn't do it. He didn't know _why_, he had faced similar decisions while in command of his viper squadron and had always chosen duty over emotion, _always._ But this was too much for some reason and he just…couldn't. Couldn't let even _more_ people innocents die when they had already lost so much. But what could he actually _do_?

Faced with this completely impossible choice, he reverted to his tried and true method of dealing with impossible things and thought: _What would Starbuck do_? For if there was a single individual in the Twelve Colonies he knew of that was capable of performing the type of miracle they needed right now, it was _her_.

And just as suddenly, as if she'd been waiting to whisper it to him all along, his mind flashed to the old-school EMPs and to the barely functioning raptor he had seen them load in the cargo-hold, rescues from Galactica meant for either a museum or the scrap heap, and a very insane plan began to form in his mind. Oh _she_ would be proud he thought maniacally.

He promptly jumped to his feet, gave a wolfish grin to the President and the pilot, still in a state of shock over the Basestar that had appeared in the few seconds it took Lee to formulate his plan and then ran straight out of the room towards the cargo-hold without explaining what he was doing.

This would need to happen _fast_ if it had even a chance of working.

He entered the cargo-hold, and luckily spotted a couple of deckhands busy panicking. He ran towards them and grabbed them both by the collar.

"You have one chance to survive this and that's if you do what I say, clear?" he shouted in his Captain's voice, confident and commanding.

The deck-hands both nodded quickly.

"Good. Now I need you to take one of _these_ and put it in _there_ as fast as you possibly can, you got it?" He exclaimed while pointing first to one of the EMPs and then to the aging raptor.

"Yes sir!"

"Good, get to it!" he screamed while running towards the old raptor.

He got in the cockpit and found that it was a true piece of junk, filled with dust and ancient looking computers, and…was that an actual spider-web? This must've been one of the first generation of raptors, a relic even older than the Galactica. He went through the launch sequence as quickly as he could; turning on various monitors and feeling the reactor begin to rumble.

Behind him, he heard the two deck-hands opening the raptor's back hatch. Good, they had made quick work, barely a couple of minutes had passed since he'd entered the cargo-hold.

After a few heart-stopping moments when he thought the EMP wouldn't actually fit in the hatch or when his DRADIS would only turn on after repeated thumps of his foot, he was ready to go.

He told the deck-hands to get clear, then turned on his coms and contacted the pilot.

"Colonial One pilot, this is Captain Apollo, request that you open launch bay 2-A"

"What? Captain? Where did you go? That Cylon ship just launched I don't know how many nukes! We need you here!" was the pilot's hysterical answer.

"Listen to me! You have one chance and one chance only to live through the next 3 minutes, and that's if you open the godsdamn launch bay right now so I can save your ass, so _obey my order_"

After a few moments of shuffling and arguing on the other side of the coms, the launch bay finally opened and he pushed the throttle, propelling him into space.

"I dearly hope you're not abandoning us Captain Apollo" said the solemn voice of Laura Roslin over coms.

Once in space, he quickly took stock of the tactical situation with the help of his barely functioning DRADIS, and quickly ascertained that the captain had been right, there were about three dozen missiles rapidly bearing towards the fleet. His radiological alert indicated that at least one or more of these missiles was tactical nuclear warhead. The Basestar hadn't even bothered launching raiders when they realized these were only civilian ships. So far, so good.

He angled his raptor straight towards the Basestar and the incoming missiles, and pushed the engines to their maximum, far more than was recommended or safe, feeling the Gs slam into his body. He switched off safety warnings and bypassed security protocols so he could push the engine into overdrive. At this rate, he would only be able to hold this speed for a few precious minutes before the ancient reactor propelling his ship literally exploded, but a few minutes were all that he needed.

He dearly hoped he had reacted quickly enough, because this had become a _race_ now.

He turned on his coms to contact Colonial One.

"Colonial One, this is Captain Apollo, do you read me?"

It was the President who answered in a trembling but still firm voice, he felt his respect for the woman grow a little more.

"We read you Captain…dare I ask what you're doing exactly?"

He chuckled. He understood her incredulity; here he was, in a barely functioning raptor with no weapons array, flying directly in the path of over 60 missiles and a Cylon Basestar as fast as he possibly could. He was literally playing chicken with a bunch of missiles; this was truly a Starbuck-worthy plan.

"I'm doing what Starbuck would do" he answered in a laughing voice, seized by a strange burst of humour at this completely inappropriate time.

"Okay Captain…and what is that?" she responded in an increasingly worried voice, probably thinking he'd lost his mind.

He forced down his brief moment of insane laughter and turned back into a Colonial Fleet Officer, there were things he needed to say.

His raptor was trembling terribly as he pushed it faster and faster towards the incoming missiles.

"Right. Okay. Madame President, here's the plan. There's a lot to say so please don't interrupt me and pay close attention. I'm currently carrying a high-yield energy coil that is capable of releasing an electromagnetic pulse as powerful as the one from a 50 megaton nuclear detonation. This pulse should disable the missiles and create the appearance of a nuclear explosion on DRADIS, one that will hopefully fool the cylons into thinking their strike was successful-"

"Well that's great Captain, but why are you-"

"Listen to me! None of your ships are military vessels so that means that they're not shielded against this particular kind of pulse radiation. That's why I have to get as far from you as I can, if I'd blown it from the ship, it would have fried everything electrical in a 10 click radius and all of our ships would have blown. Now I've done the calculations and I'm positive I can get clear enough so that the pulse won't affect you too badly. It will probably fry a few secondary systems but your FTL drive and other primary systems should have sufficient insulation to hold. That might not be the case for a few of the smaller shuttles around you, so you need to mark down their position right now and go straight for them after the pulse. They won't have long. After that Madame President, I would respectfully suggest that you halt further rescue operations and that all FTL capable ships jump to Ragnar Anchorage to rendez-vous with my father."

A long silence followed his declaration. There was no need for anyone to mention what would happen to _him _in this particular scenario, it was obvious. He merely didn't know if it would be the EMP, the nukes, his ship falling apart or the Cylon Basestar that would kill him, oh well, it was good to have options. He checked his DRADIS, the nukes were getting closer and closer. He could see them with his own eyes now, tiny little moving splashes of light in the dark of space between him and the basestar. He turned behind him and started prepping the EMP. Any minute now…

"Captain Apollo…uhm, I mean, Adama, I…I don't know what to say other than thank you and I…I'm sorry, truly, it was my decision to stay and-"

"No, you were right Madame President. I'm a Colonial Fleet Officer, my duty is first and foremost to protect the lives of the citizens of the Twelve Colonies, at _any_ cost. That's why I stayed in the first place and that's why I'm doing…what I'm doing. This way at least… you _all_ have a chance. It's the best I can give you, I'm sorry I couldn't do more"

He heard Laura Roslin swallow hard and take a deep breath before answering him with a voice filled with emotion.

"Captain you are undoubtedly the bravest man I have ever met and I have no doubt that the Gods will honour your sacrifice, you have _nothing_ to be sorry for. And I'll tell the same thing to Commander Adama, do you… have a message you want me to pass on?"

The nukes were getting brighter and brighter as they closed in on him, and behind them, the massive Cylon Basestar was looming ominously and getting progressively bigger. Not long now.

He thought about what the President said, apart from the flowery embellishments he didn't believe for as second, did he want to leave a message to his father? What could he possibly say _now_? I love you Dad? He had barely uttered these words to his father or anybody else for that matter in _years_, and now they were supposed to have meaning just because he'd suddenly decided to commit suicide? No he didn't think so.

His relationship with his father had forever been difficult and complicated, as two men possessed of the same unbreakable will but with different values, it could never have been otherwise. There was literally _decades_ of powerful antimony between them and dozens upon dozens of fights and arguments of all kinds, and it was insane to think that just a few dying words would fix anything between them, not to mention that it also felt more than a little hypocritical… Except perhaps on one subject. There was _one_ thing that his father deserved to hear him say before he died.

"Tell him…tell him that I know Zak's death wasn't his fault, it wasn't _anybody's _really, that's important. And he never deserved me blaming _him_ for it. Tell him…I know I wasn't a very good son but that I…I just did the best I could I guess, that I tried to do what was _right_…Tell him I'm rolling the hard six"

More tearful sobbing on the other side of the coms, and despite his absurd current situation, he was starting to feel a bit embarrassed for breaking com protocol and being so emotional during what he still considered a military operation. At least he won't be alive to get teased about it.

"I _will_ tell him Captain Ap- Adama, you have my word"

While thinking of his father and the President and the future he would never see, something else occurred to him.

"Also, when you see him, he'll be preparing to fight back, he won't be able to accept we've already lost the war he's been preparing for all his life. _You_ will have to be the one to convince him that the people must come before whatever retaliation or… _vengeance_ he might be planning. You'll be his only counter-balance now. It won't be easy, my father is stubborn and set in his ways. But you _are_ the President now and whatever else he is, my father believes in democracy and the Articles of Colonization and…he's a _good_ man. You'll just have to remind him of his Oath, remind him that the true worth of a soldier is counted in how many of his allies he manages to _save _not how many of his enemies he manages to _kill_. I don't know you very well but I've seen your strength and resolve already, I think you have what it takes, even if you'll need every ounce of it in the times ahead…Godspeed Madame President."

"I…thank you Captain, so much. From myself and everyone else you are saving. I _swear_ you will not be _forgotten_."

The EMPs coils had almost finished spooling up behind him and the sound and vibration of the powerful device added to the already shaking raptor and the multiple Gs he was experiencing from pushing the ship as fast it could go. All of it combined to create almost impossible flying conditions.

Even in this chaotic atmosphere, the President's last words had shaken a memory loose within him; one that was wasn't completely unexpected.

He thought of Kara and the very first night he met her, as he so often did. He remembered what they'd talked about, late in the night after Zak had already passed out. He remembered how the normally impossibly guarded woman had confessed to him, a virtual stranger at the time, that she didn't fear death in the slightest but rather was terrified of being _forgotten_. He, himself, didn't give a flying frak about being remembered or lauded after his death, he had always been a pragmatist and never been in it for the glory. And yet, he couldn't help but think once again that she would approve of his chosen exit: it was insane, suicidal and had only the slimmest chance of working, a perfect Starbuck plan. This brought a smile to his face. He was glad to have been able to see her one last time earlier today, even if only briefly and through the bars of the brig and even if she had called him a _superior asshole_. It was her face he was imagining right now as he sped towards death, and he knew with absolute certainty that it was her face that would be the last thing he thought of before he died…in less than ninety seconds.

_This is my last chance_ he suddenly realized. The last chance he would ever have to tell her.

"Wait, Madame President! There's something else! Tell Kara that I-" Except she wasn't _here_ and what message could he actually give her? Through a third party no less. Even worse than his father, his "relationship" if it could be called that, with Kara Thrace was so complicated and chaotic and unexplainable on so many levels that it defied categorization or description. But he still had to say _something_, less for her this time, as he didn't actually have the slightest idea of how she truly felt for him, than for himself. "Uhm, I mean to say, when you reach the Galactica, could you find a Lieutenant Kara Thrace? She's a viper pilot but she'll have survived the fight _for_ _sure_, though she may be in the brig again by now. When you find her, tell her…" Tell her what? That he loved her? That he hated her? That he cursed her very existence all the while thanking the Gods for allowing him even a single glance at her face? That he had never simultaneously desired, loathed, worshipped and reviled anything or anybody as he did her? That she had infected him like a virus that he never wanted to get rid of since the very first time he saw her? All of those things were true and many more besides.

"…just tell her that she was in my thoughts…always." Is all he actually managed to spit out, whispering the last word so that it was barely audible. It seems he was to be a coward to the very end, unable to confess his feelings even when he was seconds away from being obliterated.

But at the same time, it was _true_. His feelings for Kara had always been so confusing and overwhelming and intense that he didn't think there even _existed_ words to describe what he felt for her. So perhaps telling her that he had kept her spirit alive inside him was enough, telling her that _she_ could never, ever _be_ _forgotten_, not by him. And as he stared at the incoming missiles, his death made so very real and concrete by the fact that he could actually see it racing towards him at full speed and that for his first time as a pilot, he wasn't seeking to avoid it, he was finally able to detach himself from the guilt, the shame, the anger and the regret he invariably associated with the woman whenever he thought of her and simply _enjoy_ for once. He thought about her short and messy blonde hair, of her dimples, of her cute button nose, of that unique twist of the lips that gave a smile that was uniquely _Kara_, and of those eyes that revealed both nothing and everything that had been able to pierce right through his soul from the moment he met her.

And as the nukes got closer, he went deeper still, he allowed himself to think about _that night_. Of her pale and pearly flesh, of her perfect and supple body writhing sensually beneath him, of her voice moaning his name in pleasure, of her nails digging into his back pushing him deeper inside her, of her naked and sweat drenched body melded to his in one perfect stolen moment. He let himself remember _that night_, his greatest shame and his greatest pleasure and his greatest pain and finally let it all go and laid the memory of his brother to rest. It didn't matter anymore if it had been right or wrong, he would always love his brother but in that same inescapable way, he would always love Kara also and he finally accepted that.

The more he let himself fall into memories of Kara, and the closer he got to death, the more _real_ his memories seemed to become. Until he could swear that he felt her breath against his neck despite his uniform, her hands gently caressing his despite his gloves, her sweet scent invading him despite his helmet and her voice softly singing an unfamiliar melody into his ear that sounded clear as crystal despite the surrounding cacophony. It truly, _physically,_ felt as if she was right behind him and he daren't look back to know if she was really there for fear of being disappointed and instead, let himself bask into this unexpected gift. He'd never believed in the Gods, not really, but perhaps he'd been wrong in his lack of faith and Kara had been right in hers and this was Their way to ease his passing, maybe even to honour him as the President had said. He wasn't sure if he deserved it but it was certainly the perfect gift as, even as he literally stared death straight in the face, he'd never felt more calm or content in his life than with Kara leaning gently against his back singing her haunting lullaby.

In his trance like state, he never noticed that he had started humming that unfamiliar melody himself until the music was the only thing he could hear, overwhelming even the horrible strident sounds of the rattling raptor and charging EMP right behind him. All he could hear was this strange music and all he could feel was Kara. He never noticed how her hand, her cool skin feeling like it was gently affixed to his, started moving his fingers on the FTL nav computer, his fingers moving nimbly like a pianist in rhythm with the music, quickly typing in coordinates and calculations he shouldn't have known. And even if he had noticed, he wouldn't have cared, all he could feel was Kara and that was just fine with him, he idly wondered if he was already in heaven.

He was disabused of that notion a second later when Kara's hand suddenly gripped his tightly and painfully; and for a second it even felt him like she slapped him in the face, brutally awakening him and ending his trance.

He also noticed that Kara's voice was no longer gently humming her sweet melody but was rather shouting in his ear in a tone he recognized as much more _her_.

"Wake up you frakking moron! Wake up! You're not dying today so move your frakking ass right now! Live you frakker! _Live_!"

_Live. Live. LIVE. __**LIVE!**_

Harshly pulled from his pleasant dream-like state, he quickly focused in front of him and was reminded of his less-than-pleasant situation. The nukes were so close now that it felt as if he could touch them if he just reached out his arms. And behind them, the massive Cylon Basestar had moved steadily closer as well, _very_ close in fact. A mad idea surged through his mind, was it close enough? Immediately numbers, equations and vectors jumped into his mind as he tried to calculate the various distances and speed between the fleet, the nukes, his ship, the Basestar, the range of the EMP and the range of the nukes. He had always been very good at math but the sheer width of variables and moving components in the tactical theatre should have made it impossible for even the most brilliant genius to discern any workable plan. Despite that, a single perfect sequence of events shined into his mind like the proof to a particularly complex equation: simple, elegant and flawless. It was a gamble that would require divine timing and luck and was something that went against his every instinct as a pilot and officer but with Kara's urging to _live_ still ringing in his ears, he didn't even think about it before abandoning his original plan to detonate the EMP just as he was about to reach the nukes to make sure he got them all. With the Basestar this close, not in defence mode and with her weapons array opening, he could do something else. Something _better_.

The numerous nuclear missiles reached him a few moments later and despite being right in their path, he avoided every single one of them, twisting and turning his battered old ship at impossible angles so that they all missed him, one or two from just a few meters. Despite the fact that his ship hadn't actually been target-locked and that these were tactical nukes instead of heat-seekers, it was still an impossible piece of flying, he didn't linger on it for even a second as focused as he was.

However, the President and the pilot must have been monitoring the situation on their own DRADIS and when they saw him avoid the missiles, they naturally panicked.

"Captain?! What-"

He switched off his coms, there was no time for explanations, either this worked or it didn't.

He got off his seat in order to begin the final prep on the EMP. There was no timer but he knew the coils would take at least fifteen seconds to charge before detonating after he switched it on. He entered the final code sequence and then unlatched the EMP from where it was fixed on the Raptor. He then did his best to push it as close to the hatch as possible.

He rushed back to his seat and a quick check of his DRADIS showed the nukes still steadily approaching the fleet and the Cylon basestar ahead of him, its massive frame slowly opening, with his ship practically right in the middle, the timing would have to be _perfect_ to the nanosecond.

He didn't let that bother him as he hooked his helmet to the oxygen output affixed in his seat for EVAs. Everything was ready.

_Time to roll the hard six._

He reached behind him with one hand and pressed the trigger on the EMP, causing the device to immediately start shaking as its coils were finally fully charged and seconds away from unleashing their deadly pulse. With his other hand he punched the button for an emergency opening of the back hatch, causing an immediate rush of icy cold air devoid of oxygen to blow into the cockpit. In the next second, he cut out all his forward propulsion while turning the stick as hard as he could and engaging the right-side secondary thrusters at the same time. This caused the raptor to turn extremely sharply, almost as if it was skidding on a dirt road. The centrifugal motion and the opening of the back hatch sucked the EMP straight out of the raptor and directly into space, slowly but surely propelled towards the Cylon Basestar who he could see had just now decided to launch its raiders.

_Too late toasters_ he heard Kara's smirking tone in his ear and agreed.

Unfortunately, if he wanted to obey her command to _live_, he wouldn't have the time to take in the subsequent destruction (or the complete failure of his plan). He only had a few seconds left to close the back hatch, turn towards the FTL navigation computer he hadn't even been aware he'd turned on and notice the unfamiliar coordinates already entered. He didn't question it, there was no time, he just pushed the button and jumped straight into the unknown.

_We'll see each other again_ was Kara's final whisper, breathed in his ear as his body squeezed in on itself for the FTL jump.

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From her vantage point inside the cockpit of the former Colonial Heavy Cruiser 798 now renamed Colonial One, President Laura Roslin was watching all of this unfold with increasing awe.

Laura Roslin didn't like soldiers. She never had. As an educator, she had spent her entire life trying to teach young minds that violence was the language of idiocy and brutality, and that their worth as a society very much lay in how little they were forced to use violence as that last and destructive form of dialogue. Therefore, she had always carried very mixed feelings about those men and women who decided to make violence and killing their way of life by joining the military. Oh certainly, she understood and even respected the importance of duty and patriotism and she wasn't quite naïve enough to believe that the military wasn't an unfortunate but very much necessary part of society. But she still didn't like soldiers.

Which was why she had been surprised to have instantly taken to the handsome young Captain Apollo from the moment she met him, after he had saved their lives for the first time. There had been something immediately comforting about the quiet and intense young man who kept his professional calm even as they learned that the worlds had burned down around them. And it hadn't been soldierly apathy and trained detachment that kept him clam, he had felt it just as much as she had, it had been _duty _she now realized. He had been beside her as she learned that she was now the President of whatever remained of the Twelve Colonies, something she was still having a hard time coming to terms with, and it had been his immediate confidence and support in her as a Colonial Fleet Officer himself that made at least a part of her believe that she wasn't a complete fraud when she had recited the Sacred Oath.

When she had decided to ignore Commander Adama's orders and pursue rescue operations, she had genuinely believed that the Captain had obeyed her orders because as a soldier that was simply what he'd been "indoctrinated" to do: follow the chain of command and the young man seemed to agree that the President remained the highest authority. But as she watched the tiny blip of his ship steadily advancing on the massive shape of the Cylon Basestar and she heard the unwavering strength and conviction in his voice, she realized how arrogant she'd been to believe she had ordered the confident young officer to do _anything_. He had defied a direct order from his father and commander to abandon the remaining refugees because that was what _he_ had believed was right, he had remained behind to help rescue those same refugees because that was what _he_ had decided to, and he was now sacrificing his own life to save thousands of strangers without a second thought because it was his _duty_. Never before had she seen a moral concept manifest itself into reality so very concretely and it challenged her entire world view for a second. She felt like the worst of hypocrites as she observed the young man fearlessly act out those words and rethoric she had spent _decades_ spewing from her high horse without ever being forced to consider what they might actually _mean_. Bravery, sacrifice, honour, duty. Those weren't the flowery embellishments of the old Admirals, the catch-phrases to throw to the media to win a few political points, or even the mindless devotion of the true believer who threw his life and anyone else's away without thought. To this man, those words weren't abstract at all, each of them translated into direct action as he launched his single tiny ship against the massive behemoth in front of him.

Even on something as impersonal and functional as an ordinary DRADIS monitor, watching the single minuscule ship flying straight, true and without fear towards the hulking behemoth of the cylon basestar was something akin to watching a miracle in slow motion. It felt _holy_. She didn't see a blip on a screen anymore, as she listened to the captain's strong voice utter his heart-breaking goodbyes, she saw instead the form of the Sun God Apollo flying straight and true, propelled though the air by his majestic white wings with his glittering sword drawn and pointed towards a horrible miasma of a black, slimy and revolting texture that pulsed like a horrible heart-beat and blocked out the stars from its vastness. The kind of scene that would have been immortalized in the Scrolls of Pythia four thousand years ago.

It was when the Captain had started talking about his father and how she would have to be strong to counter his militaristic views that she suddenly felt very small. Even in the face of his own imminent death, the young officer's mind was still focused on the future of the fleet and what was best for other people. Even when he had given her that heart-clenching message to his father, she realized he still wasn't thinking about himself but was instead trying to preventively alleviate his father's grief.

Never before had she encountered that kind of selflessness outside of books and plays, and it was humbling and a little sad that, especially after the death of her sisters and since she had started in politics and had been forced to deal with the many morally "grey areas" that it entailed, she had genuinely started to believe people like Captain Apollo didn't exist anymore. What a true cynic she had become.

The most heart-breaking moment had been when the young pilot made his one and only request, that she find this Lieutenant "Kara Thrace" and tell her he _thought_ about her. She didn't know what had stopped him from saying what had been perfectly obvious to her from his soft tone, to the painful pause, to the timing of his request; that whoever this "Kara Thrace" was, the Captain _loved_ _her_ profoundly and would go to his grave with her face etched into his mind until the very last instant.

She had felt both lightened that the serious officer had known a powerful love in his life, and heart-broken when she thought of the faceless "Kara Thrace" losing the man she surely must love as well.

Then the strangest thing happened and the Captain started to hum a haunting lullaby over the coms, maybe not even realizing he was doing it. The sad and poignant melody filled her heart with an indescribable feeling. As if they were on the verge of some momentous event that would change the fate of the worlds.

When she saw the blip of the Captain's ship and the missiles pass each other without colliding, something she had been sure was his plan, she felt a well of fear and her traitorous heart wondered for the third time if the officer had abandoned them to their fate or maybe just failed.

She didn't have to wonder long however, as a few seconds later, the world exploded white like a supernova. Right before her eyes, the darkness of space caught fire in an incredibly bright flash of light and for a single second it looked as if a bright pulsing star had suddenly appeared; a new sun that was growing ever brighter and brighter.

Faced with such awe-inspiring cosmic force and destruction, she had a single moment of clarity when she was absolutely certain that they were _all_ _dead_. Nothing could survive such power.

The following massive wave of kinetic and electromagnetic force knocked out everything around it, machine and human alike. And for a few surreal moments, everything just _stopped_. The thousands of people in the sixty odd ships that had all been glued to whatever window they could find and that had all thought this was surely the end when the massive explosion began were all knocked unconscious. In the same way, every single ship and piece of electronic equipment suddenly stopped and went dark at that same moment.

For an instant, it seemed as if the Gods stole a moment in time in order to take a pause before rendering Their judgement on the fleet. The whole of space along with every piece of machinery and every human being was silent and still, waiting in limbo between life and death.

In the next moment, the world started up again and it seemed the Gods made their decision because the seemingly dead fleet miraculously started to wake up and rise. One by one, ship's engines, monitors and lights turned back on, while at the same time, thousands of confused people slowly got to their feet wondering why they weren't dead.

Inside the cockpit of Colonial One, President Laura Roslin was slowly coming back to herself with the same thought running through her mind as everyone else's on the fleet: _how were they still alive_?

She had been knocked roughly to the ground, and with her sickness already robbing much of her strength, she had been forced to lie still a moment longer to push away the pain and the nausea and attempt to organize her thoughts. She still couldn't quite comprehend that she was still alive when she had been so _sure_ of her death just a few seconds ago.

That was how Billy Keikeya found her when he burst through the cockpit a few moments later.

"My Gods! Madame President, are you alright?" her trusted young aide asked frantically as he bent down to check on her.

"I'm okay Billy, I'm okay. I just had the wind knocked out of me when I fell. Are _you_ okay? " she responded as the young man helped her sit up and she tried to make sense of her jumbled thoughts.

"I'm okay, so are the other passengers from what I could see, what _was_ that? What happened? All we could see from the windows was that _huge_ cylon ship that jumped on top of us and launched a whole bunch of missiles so when we saw that huge explosion we thought we were dead for sure. I still can't believe we're all in one piece"

A big part of Laura agreed with Billy's disbelief, they _should_ be dead, the captain had missed the missiles hadn't he? And what was that massive explosion if not a nuclear detonation?

"I…I don't know Billy, Captain are you okay? Do you know what happened?" she asked the third occupant of the room who had also been briefly knocked out but managed to stay in his seat and was now staring at the DRADIS monitor fixedly.

The pilot didn't answer however and was still looking at his monitor in a state of shock.

"Captain! Attention and report!" finally snapped the President after she had gotten to her feet with the help of her faithful assistant.

This seemed to break the reverie that had come over the aging pilot and he looked towards them, as if just now realizing they were in the room. Laura couldn't blame him, those last few minutes had been the most intense, surreal and terrifying of her life.

"Madame President! Are you injured? What about my crew –"

"I'm fine Captain, and from what Billy tells me, so are the rest of the passengers. Now, could you tell us what happened?"

At this, the pilot reverted his attention back to his DRADIS monitor with disbelieving eyes, looked out the windows of the cockpit intensely, then looked back to his monitor and proceeded to punch the side of his computer console a couple of times.

"Captain?"

Suddenly, the pilot turned sharply back towards them, a look of complete amazement on his face.

"It-It's…_gone_. I don't frakking know how and at first I thought it was just a trick on the DRADIS but look out there! Just look! It's _gone_! Do you see? Do you see?"

The President turned her attention from the frantic pilot to the windows surveying outer space and understood what the pilot was talking about at once. She could see.

Where the last time she looked, a massive and seemingly invulnerable Cylon Basestar was blocking the horizon with its size, there now only remained thousands of pieces of debris floating haphazardly. Realization dawned on her of just what Captain Apollo had done.

"By Athena … he did it, he actually did it, he destroyed it, them, _all_ of them"

They both locked eyes and thought about the young officer who had just given his life to accomplish the _impossible_.

"Who did? Madame President? What happened? Are we- are we safe?"

She smiled gently at her sweet young assistant and patted him on the cheek.

"Yes Billy I think we're safe, at least for now. But Captain, _how_? How did he do it?"

The captain turned thoughtful for a moment as he recalled the last moments of Apollo's advance on DRADIS.

"I honestly have no idea, but I think- I think, that when he reached the missiles, he must have realized that if he could get close enough to the Basestar while still making sure that the nukes were close enough to the range of that EMP weapon of his to still be shut down before they reached us, he could take them _both_ out…Which I guess he _did_, spectacularly. The Cylon Basestar is definitely destroyed and I don't register any raiders or missiles on DRADIS. But as for _how_? I truly couldn't tell you Madame President, even as a pilot myself, _especially_ as a pilot myself, at least half of what he did should have been impossible…" the pilot answered in a stunned tone.

"So that's why he avoided the missiles, to get closer to the Basestar and give more chance for his weapon to work"

"Yes that's what I figure, only the _timing_ for accomplishing something like that? He would have had to calculate the range of the electromagnetic pulse down to the meter while factoring in the motion of the fleet, the missiles, the cylon's ship not to mention his own motion, and all in what? Ten seconds? That's so many vectors and variables I can't even wrap my head around it. The toasters clearly didn't expect it either though, probably thought they would tag him with one of their missiles, but I mean just _look_ at this, he completely obliterated that massive ship of theirs in just one blow, all in that crappy raptor I saw them loading in before. I'd have to say he ignited their tylium reserves or blew up their hyperdrive somehow, it's the only things that could produce that kind of explosion, but how in Hades he did that? _No frakking clue._ It's a Godsdamn miracle is what it is." the normally sedate pilot exclaimed wildly, the shock wearing off but not the awe of what he had just witnessed.

The President, still a bit disbelieving of their own survival herself, gathered herself together before patting the man on the shoulder and addressing him solemnly.

"You're right Captain, despite the horror of this day it seems that the Gods are still watching over us…Them and the late Captain Apollo. And now we must honour his sacrifice by using the time he's bought us at the cost of his life to rescue as many people as we can and then make our escape to Ragnar Anchorage. Time is crucial Captain, I don't know how long it will be before more Cylons show up but I imagine that they're going to wonder what's happened to their _giant ship_ sooner rather than later and come investigate. So I suggest we don't tarry, start by contacting every other ship in our vicinity one by one to see if there are any emergencies, begin with the smaller shuttles we've previously marked, we'll start the transfer of passengers immediately after that. Billy do you still have that list of manifests with you?"

Both the captain and Billy were finally snapped out of their shell-shocked state by the inspiring and confident voice of the newly-minted President of the Colonies and they both went about their work quickly.

Counting the people and attempting to save as many as she could while staying a hair's breath away from the snapping jaws of the Cylon war machine, this would be her first duty as President, and unknowingly to her, that cold and thankless duty would be hers for many years to come.

"Thank you Captain Apollo, may the Gods embrace and protect you" she finally whispered sadly while looking at the floating debris field before pulling herself together. There was a lot of work to be done…

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Lee came back to his senses when a giant sonic boom rang in his ears, pulling him out of the disorientation of an FTL jump and back into the cockpit of his rattling raptor.

He quickly noticed that his ship was _really_ rattling as there was an enormous amount of friction outside. Some kind of atmosphere he realized quickly, he was over a planet and its gravitational pull meant he was dropping _fast_.

He spared a brief thought to ponder at the mechanics of _how_ the hell he was still alive but when he thought back to his final moments, all he could remember was Kara gently humming in his ear and then ordering him to _live_. He decided to put that aside for the moment as he had more immediate concerns, such as not being incinerated during re-entry and not crashing straight down on the deck of whatever planet he was currently plunging towards.

He quickly grabbed the stick and pulled up as hard as he could in a desperate attempt to correct his trajectory. It was a moderate success as he was still dropping fast but he did slow down a little. A quick check of the cockpit informed him that half the monitors had been fried and the other half were screaming about a dozen different life-threatening emergencies, not very comforting. He continued his desperate fight against gravity as he got closer and closer to the planet but he was rapidly realizing that it was a losing battle as his engines had blown out (miraculously, without taking the ship with them), he had nothing left to fight with. At this speed he would be splattered against the ground and without propulsion he had no way to slow his descent, his ship having become more or less nothing more than a rapidly dropping metal coffin with a few blinking lights now.

One of those blinking light caught his attention as it was unfamiliar to him from what he knew of modern raptors. But this was an old model, filled with out-dated systems and…out-dated emergency procedures. Possibly including one that had been abandoned for being ineffective in most situations and taking too much space and weight. A system so simple that there was practically nothing electrical to fry and so could still be working. He pressed the button.

The reaction was immediate and practically launched him from his seat, he also heard the sound of metal tearing and then a rush of wind filled the cockpit, one of the hatches had blown. But as he recovered and watched out the windows, he realized it had worked. He had slowed down considerably and was now dropping to the ground at a much more sedate pace (though still a bit quicker than he would have liked). Thank the Gods for relics he thought as he glanced at the four parachutes that had blown out from hidden compartments and were now affixed to the raptor and supporting its weight. Those flimsy pieces of silk that were all that supported his crashing ship hadn't been installed in raptors in _years_, cycled for more efficient systems. But the words of his father that _new isn't always better_ proved true once again.

He still had no idea where he was and his nav computer along with DRADIS had blown out so that wasn't any help, but he could now see green forests approaching beneath him. Approaching _fast_. Frak, a forest was a horrible place for a crash landing as he would more than likely plunge straight into a tree. He turned the stick hard to the left as he sighted what looked vaguely like a clearing, but he only had a few of the secondary thrusters still barely working so his raptor veered ever so slowly.

As the ground got closer and closer, he was sure that he would miss the clearing but his recent streak of Starbuck-like luck seemed to be holding and he _just_ made it. Despite avoiding the trees and hitting mostly soft ground, his landing was still very rough and very nearly broke his back, his nose and his arms as the ship hit the deck hard, tearing into the earth before gradually coming to a grinding stop.

He took a few moments to rein back the pain from his crash landing. He didn't think anything was broken and his vision was clear so that meant no concussion but he was quite sure he would soon have some massive bruises to remind him of the experience.

A quick check of the cockpit revealed that absolutely _nothing_ in the ship seemed to be working, not a light anywhere and his few attempts at punching in emergency start-up procedures yielded nothing either. He'd have to do a more thorough check but he was pretty sure the old raptor had finally seen its last, it was frankly amazing that the ship had lasted even this long.

He then felt the urge to go outside and put his feet on solid ground, take off his helmet and breathe in fresh air. He was _alive_.

He got out of the ship through the conveniently blown out hatch and took a good look at where he had landed. A lush green forest with a humid kind of heat permeating the air. This was familiar. He looked up and saw the reddish form of the planet Gemenon above him.

He was on _Caprica_, he realized, immediately recognizing the landscape of his old home planet. This was both good and bad he decided. It was good in the way that he _knew_ Caprica and its various military installations well and that would surely be of great help in locating a new ship; but it was bad in the way that last he'd heard, Caprica and all its various military installations had been glassed by numerous nuclear weapons. Which meant that he was probably standing in the middle of an irradiated wasteland that was more than likely crawling with killer robots. And all he had was a dead ship as useful as a tin can, a single pistol with only two clips and no hope for support.

Ok, it was _mostly_ _bad_ he amended.

"Well, frak me."

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As Colonel Saul Tigh, XO of the Galactica and all around hard-ass, walked down the deck of the ship towards his recently rescued CO and best friend William Adama, he pondered heavily on what he would say to him.

He had been in the CIC with Bill when they had observed the appearance of the two riders near the makeshift fleet, followed immediately by a fully armed Cylon Basestar. He and everyone else had known instantly that all those people, and the old man's last surviving son, were all _dead_. Those Godsdamn ships had been blowing up Battlestars by the _dozens_ in the last 24 hours, they would make quick work of a bunch of unarmed civvies, hell just the two riders probably could have done it.

Still, he had watched the situation unfold on DRADIS with his old friend and all of the CIC. Their data was coming from a sensor in the area and not their own telemetry so the visual was bad and after the coms cut, that was all the info they had. But there had been no mistaking the multiple radiological alerts, then there was an interminable pause as the old man kept shouting for his son on coms and nobody could see anything on DRADIS, the missiles being too small for the sensor to register. And there had also been no mistaking the massive explosion that had flashed briefly on the monitor before they lost all data. A 50 megaton nuclear explosion, Lieutenant Gaeta confirmed, nothing could survive it.

He had felt his heart break for his oldest friend, even if he had never particularly liked Lee himself, the disrespect he constantly showed his father had always rankled him, he still felt the loss deeply as he watched the face of the strongest man he knew crumble in despair. But the old man proved his worth yet again and after only a few moments to compose himself, he was back to being the Commander as if nothing ever happened. His old friend was truly a force of nature.

Later, he had been standing in the CIC, keeping watch over the rearmament of the ship and worrying about his friend, stuck in Ragnar Anchorage after some dumb knuckle-dragger had dropped some ordinance. His old friend had made it through far worse though and he felt fairly sure he would pull through once again but he still felt an icy fear descending his spine at the possibility that he might be stuck in command.

His musings had been rudely interrupted by the voice suddenly blaring over the PA and the multiple alert indicators starting to flash.

"Action Stations! Action Stations!"

He turned to Lieutenant Gaeta who was scrutinizing his monitor.

"Multiple DRADIS contact just appeared at the edge of the ion storm! Bearing carrum 0257 alpha! I count more than sixty ships sir!"

The CIC burst in a flurry of activity as everyone went to their station and started preparing for immediate hostile contact.

"Cut us loose from the station, prepare to launch alert vipers, set condition one throughout the ship and someone find me a frakking firing solution, we-" barked Tigh.

"Wait sir!" Interrupted Petty Officer Dualla. "I'm receiving several Colonial transponder codes, I don't think it's the Cylons sir, they…they look like friendlies"

"Don't just accept friendly ID! Lieutenant Gaeta, verify this. Petty Officer Dualla, try to hail them on coms"

"Verified sir, it's the Colonial Heavy Transport 798, the ship Captain Apollo was on, along with what looks like their _entire_ fleet, they must have survived somehow" said Lieutenant Gaeta in a awe-filled voice.

A resounding cheer rose up in the CIC as everyone shouted for joy and even the dour Tigh had to give a small smile. Good for the old man.

"Action stations stand down"

"The lead ship is requesting permission to come alongside, sir. They say…they say they have the President of the Colonies aboard and she's requesting to speak to you sir" said Petty Officer Dualla, her ear affixed to a headset.

Tigh grumbled, _of course_.

"Put her through"

He then learned that it hadn't _all_ been good news. They had gained a sizable fleet, including a mining ship and a Tylium refinery ship (for which he was very pleased) and thousands of useless civilians (for which he was considerably less pleased). But after he had been contacted by Laura Roslin (he refused to call that power-grabbing schoolteacher the _President_) who briefly explained what had happened to the stunned officers of the CIC, he realized that the old man had _still_ lost his son.

What he managed to gather from her garbled explanation was that Apollo had apparently pulled a Starbuck and somehow managed to destroy an entire Basestar _by_ _himself_. It was fairly unbelievable to Tigh since, according to the latest reports from what little remained of the Colonial Fleet, _no one_, not even the biggest and most heavily armed Battlestars, had been able to take a single one of those frakking ships down during the lightning fast war. How a solitary pilot had managed it with only a 40 year old EMP was something he'd pay good cubits to know.

They were informed that the Commander had been found not long after that and so, Tigh was on his way to inform his friend of this latest development. He was glad the old man was safe and that he at least had been spared the few seconds of false hope the rest of the CIC had felt before they learned of Apollo's death.

Only now, he had to inform his best friend that his last son was _definitely_ dead. He doubted that the knowledge that Lee had died a hero would lessen the pain any.

He found Bill sitting down with a medic hovering above him and holding a cloth to a bleeding wound on his forehead but having lost nothing of his usual commanding presence. Tigh swallowed thickly.

"Good to see you aren't dead yet old man, I wasn't looking forward to being Commander"

"Ha! You're still stuck with me, though I admit it came a bit close there for a while. I have a lot to tell you and none of it good, but first tell me what happened while I was down there, I keep hearing rumours that new survivors arrived but no one here seems to know anything for sure."

"Yeah…uhm, it's Roslin and those civvy ship of hers, they jumped back 20 minutes ago and-"

"What?! But that means Lee! Is he-"

Tigh held up his hand.

"He's dead Bill…I'm sorry. Roslin confirmed it. I'm not exactly sure what happened but she told me that Lee went out in a raptor alone and managed to _take out_ the Basestar somehow and saved all their asses…But he would have been right next to the explosion and I think he used one of those old EMPs from the last war that we found during the overhaul, you remember, those things were _nasty _pieces of work. There's no way he would have made it…I'm truly sorry Bill, he was a hero-"

"Shut up" snapped the hard voice of the Commander, cold as ice and filled with fury.

Tigh wisely shut up and watched warily as rage started to consume his old friend. When he was truly angry, Bill Adama went _still_ and only his eyes betrayed the raging storm inside. He hesitated before continuing to speak but ultimately found his courage.

"She's on her way in a shuttle, Roslin…_President_ Roslin as she likes to be called, frakking schoolteacher. She wanted to talk to you…said it was about Apollo and the "future of the fleet", whatever that means. But I can order Gaeta to reroute her shuttle if you want, you have a lot on your plate and you should probably see Cottle-"

"No. I'll see her, but not yet. Put her in my quarters when she shows up, she's the _President _after all and tell her I'll see her when I have the time. For now, bring me up to speed on where we are with the munitions transfer and then I need to tell you something I learned about the Cylons. Something…_new_." Replied the Commander in an ominous voice as he got up and started to make his way to the CIC.

Tigh nodded and fell into step behind him, dreading what new horrors those frakking toasters could have cooked up now and mentally reviewing how many warheads they had already transferred to the Galactica. Before he made his report, he remembered something else Roslin had asked him during their brief conversation on coms, something _odd_.

"There's something else Bill. Roslin asked if she could speak with _Starbuck_ as well, of all people. I have no clue why"

This made the Commander pause slightly, looking surprised.

"Kara? How would she even know Kara? She was in hack when she toured the ship…Never mind, tell Starbuck to go to my quarters as well once she's done flying her CAP. I need to speak with her anyway…You realize that with all the pilots we lost, I'm probably going to have to make her the new CAG"

Tigh suddenly stopped and scowled. He had obviously _not_ realized that. Starbuck as CAG? That was a disaster waiting to happen in his modest opinion and he felt the loss of Apollo a bit more keenly. He might not have liked the self-righteous little shit but he'd at least respected his great competence as a pilot and officer and such competence was sorely needed now. He summed up his feelings on the matter rather succinctly.

"Frak."

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End chapter 1.

So I've had this plot bunny in my head for years now and just recently managed to string it together into something coherent.

It's obviously Kara/Lee because I'm not a sadistic son of a bitch like the show-writers.

And is, of course, AU from the point it starts (and a bit in the backstory).

Let me know if you guys like this or if people are even still reading BSG fanfiction. I _love _the show (well, the first few seasons before it got weird anyway) and my head is swimming with all kinds of plot-bunnies (plus I have the Caprica show to build on now as well) so I may or may not write more of this if people enjoy it.

So…review.


End file.
